


Free To A Good Home: One Auror - Condition: Used

by vaderina



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Newt is a secret mother hen, Percival Graves doesn't know what's good for him, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-04 22:42:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11000526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaderina/pseuds/vaderina
Summary: Percival Graves is many things, a powerful wizard, a good boss and a conscientious worker. What he isn't so good at is looking after himself. So when his office is left with a slight water problem courtesy of the new Division of Magical Beasts he's left with a dripping ceiling that is enough to drive anyone mad. And why do people get ill when they're taking it easy compared to usual?





	Free To A Good Home: One Auror - Condition: Used

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta read.  
> Characters do not belong to me, only the typos and mistakes.

The incessant drip-drip of water from the ceiling was all but driving Graves mad. His office was meant to be his sanctuary at work where he could retreat to when the madness that was his job got a little too much. When his subordinates were pestering incessantly for his attention while the higher-ups were demanding reports and setting higher and higher achievement targets. It should have been a haven of peace in the insanity yet there he sat, hands gripping tight at his own hair as the noise of the leak from above slowly drove him closer to losing his mind. Quietly he cursed the idiots above – the newly minted Division of Magical Beasts who for some reason were given offices above his rather than down in the basement like everyone had expected.

Their Head of Department was none other than the thinly veiled criminal Newt Scamander who, if they’d met under different circumstances, Graves would have already wooed, bedded and moved on from. Except their first encounter involved Graves tripping over the case which had been left open in Newt’s new office (and what did the man bribe Picquery with to get an office with such a view? Graves wasn’t bitter at all, merely curious. Honest.). All he had wanted to do was deliver a few sensitive case files to the new division who’d then take them over.  And perhaps inspect for himself the foreign stranger who had the rumour mill working overtime. Instead he’d been glancing down at the reports on the off chance something leapt out at him and he could solve it himself rather than hand it over to another department. That’s how he didn’t notice the case wide open on the ground, tripped over it and tumbled in the most inelegant way to the bottom of the ladder, his papers strewn everywhere. The gentle chuckle as a hand was offered to help him up had set him on edge. The freckles lost in the crinkles around the man’s eyes were enchanting as was the lopsided smile. If Graves hadn’t so thoroughly embarrassed himself he might have found the man cute. As it was though he hid his mortification behind anger and bluster and proceeded to ignore the hand as he picked himself off the ground with an ill hidden wince. Newt seemed to take it all in stride though, seemingly almost used to people brushing him off and continued to smile and make pleasant chit chat. He seemed sensible enough with his heart in the right place. An assessment Graves would almost immediately retract when a small black fuzzy creature tried to rob him blind. Instead of jumping to his aid when Graves tried to apprehend the creature Newt scolded him for scaring the niffler. Then he proceeded to gently reprimand the thing and return Graves’ belongings with a cool smile alongside a reproachful remark about respecting creatures.

The dripping seemed to pick up, a puddle had already formed on his carpet before Graves could find a bucket to catch the errant drops. Why Newt and his department thought it would be a great idea to try and conjure up a lake in the building for a tentacle creature was beyond imagination. Instead of a lake they’d just ended up flooding half their floor which they quickly repaired except for the corner of Newt’s office where the source of the lake was meant to be. No matter what spells they’d cast, so far all they had achieved was irritating Graves beyond measure. He almost missed the quiet knock on his door and glanced up as it swung open. The ginger devil from above stuck his head through with a shy smile.

“Sorry to bother. I just thought I’d come and apologise again for the little water issue. We’re hoping to have it fixed in a jiffy.” Newt sauntered closer to the desk  and glanced at the bucket in the corner. He didn’t even look slightly sheepish as he regarded the damage to the carpet, the bookshelf hurriedly shoved out of the way though some of the books were still waterlogged from the initial downpour.

“Was there anything else you wanted?” Graves gritted out and tried to remind himself to remain cordial. It was an uphill struggle at this point. Without any warning a hand reached towards his face and Graves froze at the intrusion. Nobody had dared breach his personal space in so long he almost forgot how to react. Fingers brushed a stray strand of hair back into place and Newt’s smile softened as he looked at the man sitting behind the desk.

“I wanted to offer you some space away from all this mess while we fix everything up.” Newt gestured into the corner with a wry smile. “It should all be back to normal by tomorrow morning.”

Graves sighed despite his best efforts to keep dramatics out of his reactions. He was slowly being driven mad in his own office so allowances could be made.

“And where exactly would I go? Your office is the source of the flooding if I’m not mistaken.”

“I’ve already checked with your aurors and with other department heads, you won’t be disturbed unless it’s a dire emergency. Follow me.”

Against his internal monologue of screams Graves gathered his papers for the rest of the day and trailed out after the other wizard. He skulked behind him and frowned when he realised the other man was taller than him, even slouched as he was. They went up to the new department and Graves stared straight ahead with a scowl rather than see employees gawk at him. He realised too late that while Newt had tucked a strand of hair back in its place his hair was probably still a mess from where he’d run his fingers through it in desperation. There was nothing to do now except bear his ill thought out life choices with a straight back and dignity.

Newt led them into his office where the carpet was a swampy mess and water merrily gurgled up in a corner. The infernal case was on top of the table Graves noted carefully and watched as Newt flipped it open, stepped first up onto a chair and from there the table before descending gracefully down into the pit of killer beasts he’d created in the name of nobility and fascination. The carpet squelched under his feet and he was faced with a choice – ruined shoes with wet socks or clambering down after Newt. Even that choice was robbed of him when Newt’s hand emerged from the case and waved him down. A huff of exasperation left his lips unbidden before Graves took the same route as Newt and not quite as elegantly descended into to case.

The shack was a mess of papers strewn about all over the place. It almost made Graves’ eyes bleed as he saw MACUSA paperwork mixed in with manuscript edits, notes and a bottle of luminous blue liquid leaving a stain on a requisition form.

“You could use the table in here if you’d like.” Newt offered with a gesture towards what might have once been a table but was now hidden under a multitude of trinkets, junk and the unfathomable. Graves tried to smile but it came out more as a grimace. “Or I could show you where I like to work.” Newt continued and turned without waiting for a reply. They were out in the habitats and Graves tried not to shudder at the sheer number of beasts nor assess the danger they posed to him. He followed Newt through the different types of enclosure until they got to one with a rocky outcrop. It was obvious where Newt liked to work. There was another pile of papers strewn across the ground, a cup of tea and an empty plate devoid of even crumbs. If Graves looked hard he could see the stripes of saliva left behind by an enthusiastic tongue. He didn’t want to think if it was Newt’s doing or one of his creatures taking an opportunistic chance of an unattended plate. Either way part of him resolved to never accept anything from a plate while down there. A swish of wand later a table appeared in the shaded area of the rock, enough distance from Newt’s area so they wouldn’t disturb each other but could keep an eye on the other.

“Thank you.” Graves eventually murmured before settling in the surprisingly comfortable chair. Newt climbed up the rocky outcrop and settled on his stomach as he re-immersed himself in the world of paperwork. Graves sighed and looked around before spreading his work out into orderly piles. Occasionally his eyes would be drawn to the man in the sunshine. He marvelled as Newt seemingly contorted effortlessly into weird positions as he got comfortable.

Mild panic sent a shooting shiver down Graves’ spine as he watched a shadow fall across Newt and a nundu of all things lumbered up behind the seemingly oblivious man. Before Graves could call out a warning or fire off a spell Newt looked over his shoulder and smiled. Actually smiled at the apex predator of magical creatures and sat up. The nundu hunkered down before eventually flopping over with a rumbling purr and Newt scooted closer, his back resting against the vast chest behind him. Absently he scratched the creature before returning to his reports. Graves shook his head and looked back down at his own work only to find that his inkwell was gone. He looked around in exasperation until a voice cut through the case.

“Niff.” Newt had lowered his report and was staring to the left of Graves’ desk. Cowering behind a slender plant was the niffler, pouch bulging. “Give it back.”

Graves watched in fascination as the little beast shuffled closer to his feet and with an almost betrayed look up at Newt pulled the inkwell out of its pouch and offered it back up to Graves. As soon as the inkwell was in Graves’ hands a shiny button came zooming through the air and the niffler snatched it impatiently.

“Sorry about that, he means well.” Newt smiled from his perch, the nundu had pushed itself up slightly and was blinking sleepily at Graves. Who didn’t know what to say so just nodded and turned his face back down towards his papers.

After a few reports a mug floated through the air towards him followed by a plate with sandwiches on it. Graves hadn’t even noticed Newt had left his perch. Instead he was strolling slowly after the floating meal, holding a steaming mug in his hands.

“I thought we could have lunch together.”

Graves nodded mutely as things settled on the table around his work. Newt set his mug down and it was a surprise to catch a glimpse of coffee in it rather than the tea Graves had expected from the Brit. Newt caught his staring and grinned.

“I know. But I can’t function without coffee any more. I can’t stay awake through all these boring reports unless I have a cup every so often.”

Graves found himself nodding in agreement as he took a fortifying sip of his own coffee. He didn’t want to admit he preferred tea personally. He’d had enough issues sleeping as it was and coffee did him no favours. Something on his face must have showed as he gulped down the scaling liquid.

“I assumed you were a coffee man, was I wrong?” Newt asked. Despite himself Graves nodded slightly bitterly. Immediately the mug was being taken from him.

“Please don’t force yourself. What would you like instead?” The gentleness of the question caught him off guard.

“Tea. Please.” he remembered his manners almost too late. Not a minute later another mug was floating haltingly through the air. Newt smiled.

“Thank you Dougal.” he said mysteriously. Graves wanted to ignore the oddity but the air around the mug shimmered and a creature with large blue eyes stared balefully up at him, offering him the mug of tea. Mutely Graves took the offered mug and automatically took a sip. The hollow taste of tea burst comfortingly on his tongue and it helped him focus on ignoring the sometimes invisible creature now perched on the desk and running fingers through his hair.

“Dougal likes you.” Newt almost sang in delight as he snagged a sandwich from the plate. “Please, help yourself.” He said through a mouthful and gestured towards the plate. Obediently Graves took a sandwich and bit into it before remembering his resolve to avoid plates. Surreptitiously he tried to look at the plate but it was laden under food so he couldn’t possibly see what state it was in. He had to trust Newt to follow common sense and cleanliness.

The creature on the desk was sorting through strands of his hair and shaking its paws in disgust when it encountered still sticky pomade. Newt had a hip against the desk and was munching contentedly on another sandwich. It was quiet and peaceful in a way Graves never thought work could be. A knock echoed through the case breaking the lull. Newt pushed away from the table with a small smile and left a half-eaten sandwich on the table. Dougal patted Graves’ hair as though offended by its very existence.

Newt was gone for a while, Graves ate half the sandwiches on the plate and batted away curious creatures from the rest. He’d undone the top few buttons of his shirt, rolled up his cuffs and after feeling his hair realised it would be better to vanish the pomade rather than try to restore some semblance of order. The sun was warm on his back and he slumped further into the chair. He figured he could rest his head on his arms to read the reports. He didn’t need to write anything on the one in front of him and he might as well be comfortable while he read.

He stirred to fingers – human ones this time – carding through his hair. It felt nice and he sighed before his brain caught up with everything and he shot up in his seat, papers scattering everywhere around him.

“Easy there.” Newt’s voice was low and warm. “I just thought I’d let you know it’s time to go home if you’d like. You’re welcome to stay here but people are leaving for home.”

Graves nodded and stood, he stretched and caught Newt’s eyes lingering on the sliver of flesh he’d accidentally exposed as his shirt rode up. Actually as he thought about it Newt’s eyes had catalogued his appearance as he stood. He wet his lips and watched as the other man’s eyes darted to follow the tip of his tongue as it peeked out between his lips. That was an interesting development. One he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do with.

“Right. Thank you. For your hospitality and everything. My office door is always open should you need anything.”

“Actually, about that. You may wish to avoid your office tomorrow. A spell backfired and it’s a little waterlogged at the moment. You could always come back down here tomorrow.” Newt offered though he didn’t seem the least bit sorry about the state of Graves’ office.

“We’ll see tomorrow. Once again, thank you for today.”

He strolled out of the case with the feeling of more than one set of eyes on him.

The next morning he walked to his office, opened the door and closed it almost immediately. While the dripping had stopped instead there was now a steady flow of water down the walls and the ceiling curved dangerously downwards as though heavily pregnant with water. It was dangling precariously right above his chair and Graves had no desire to be under that when it burst. The memo-mice were crowding against the door frame, compelled to go to his office in his absence from the building yet wary of the water. Graves couldn’t blame them in all honesty. He scooped them up and made his way up to Newt’s office for another day in the case.

The office above him looked oddly ordered if one could ignore the miniature geysers occasionally erupting round the room. Timing his steps carefully he got to the table where the case was relatively dry and knocked. The case popped open a minute later and as Graves made his way down into the case something occurred to him. Normally he was one of the first to arrive for work and he couldn’t imagine Newt keeping similar hours to him. His suspicions were confirmed when he spotted Newt in his shack, in an interesting state of dishevelled. He was shirtless and rubbing his stubble while he stared at the razor on the side of the sink. He turned to Graves with a grin.

“I guess I lost track of time. Shaving can wait until tomorrow, things to do now, work to be done.”

Graves nodded and watched as the man pulled a shirt on and got ready for the day. It was almost mesmerising the ease with which he moved through the small shack and then out into the habitats, a true force to be reckoned with.

“Newt.” he called after the man. Newt turned with a questioning look. “Do you live here?”

Not the subtlest way to go about it but it would do. He wasn’t expecting Newt to smile and nod.

“I’ve got everything I need here. Why splurge on an apartment when I’d be down here anyway?”

“You know you can’t actually live in MACUSA?”

“I’m not. I live in my case which just so happens to be in MACUSA at the moment.”

Graves dropped the topic because there was no arguing with the man it seemed. He knew which battles to pick and this wasn’t one of them. He didn’t need a guide to his new table near the nundu this times and he settled in with his reports and armful of memo mice which were clamouring for his attention. One hopped off the desk and ran a circle in the grass. Almost immediately the nundu pounced on it and ate it. Graves could only hope it wasn’t an important memo. The other mice cowered against his chest in a bundle and remained eerily still as he started to work his way through them.

It was difficult to work that morning, especially when Newt meandered by with a wheelbarrow and a bucket. The nundu chased after him with the enthusiasm of a kitten and all but tackled the man to the floor. Graves was half out of his chair, wand firm in his palm when Newt rolled out from under the creature with a laugh and proceeded to climb onto the nundu’s neck while the other tried to buck him off. It was quite a sight to behold and Graves got lost in the view until Newt breathlessly chuckled as he got pinned under the nundu’s giant paw. He picked himself up off the ground and grabbed the bucket of meat and proceeded to throw it for the nundu to chase down. Graces caught himself staring and quickly looked down at his work before Newt cottoned on to his audience.

A cup of tea floated through the air towards him as Newt finally approached his usual working spot an hour later. He didn’t say anything just raised the cup in thanks and took a sip. It soothed his throat and Graves frowned, his throat wasn’t normally sore. It took a moment of thinking to decide he was imagining things and it must have been a flight of odd fancy. He cleared his throat for good measure and continued to work. Occasionally he’d sneak glances up at Newt who this time was laying on his side, head propped up on one arm as he flicked through his own work. Occasionally he was caught staring and as offered a warm smile in return. Lunchtime passed much the same as the day before with Newt providing sandwiches and tea. This cup seemed to have been laced with sweet honey as it left a light burn behind which strangely comforted his throat which was definitely not sore. He just needed to clear it more often than usual was all. Probably all the pollen and what not in the case. Newt didn’t say anything about it, but the teas came more frequently and they all had honey in them.

By the time Newt lay a gentle hand on his shoulder with soft words about heading home for the evening Graves had a pounding headache which he tried very hard to ignore. In his refusal to acknowledge it he managed to be taken by surprise as he rose from the table and the pain behind his eyes grew tenfold. It was only years of suppressing any signs of pain or even emotion for that matter that prevented him from groaning and raising a hand to cover his eyes. The look Newt gave him suggested that perhaps he wasn’t quite as successful as usual in hiding his pain. The other man didn’t say anything and let him leave wordlessly.

The next morning Graves struggled to get out of bed. He felt as though his bones had turned to lead, weighing him down in his bed while someone took sandpaper to his throat and set up a forge in his head that echoed each clang of the pipes as his neighbours went about their mornings. He wanted to sigh and grumble but all that came out was a croaking rasp. It took a few moments of clearing his throat and then what felt like coughing his lungs up before he could force out his voice and bend it to his will again. He sounded more or less like himself if he really made an effort but perhaps he’d try to take it easy with talking. Despite his best efforts he was still ten minutes later than usual and in a testament to his drowning self-pity he missed Newt who seemed to be waiting for him in the large hall into MACUSA.

“There you are,” Newt beamed at him, “I was starting to worry.” He took Graves by the elbow and lead him straight to the Division of Magical Beasts’ floor. They descended into the case and Graves was surprised to find the memo mice for him were all corralled into a small pen on his desk. It was a nice addition, stopped the nundu from hunting them down. He tried to voice his appreciation but he forgot about forcing his voice and barely a whisper came out. Newt seemed unperturbed by this and smiled reassuringly at him. Despite the short walk Graves felt like he’s run a marathon and gratefully sank into the chair which felt softer than the previous few days. A cup of tea floated through the air towards him and it was a testament to his fatigue and odd trust in Newt that he didn’t even question why it felt like his fingers brushed against invisible furry fingers as he took it. The honey and something else he couldn’t quite identify in the tea soothed the rawness that was clinging to the back of his throat.

“Chamomile.” Newt chirped up. “Now, I’m not one to tell others what to do but if you need anything just send me a memo mouse or wave at me and I’ll come over. Okay?”

Graves nodded and took another long dreg from his cup. The words on the reports blurred and he tried to force his tired eyes to focus. He let his head rest in his palms as he tried to read and his hair tickled the soft skin between his fingers. Which was rather unusual for him and a quick swipe through his hair confirmed he’d forgotten to put the pomade in to style it into its usual severe shape. Part of him was mortified yet another part couldn’t care less. His eyes slipped shut for the briefest of seconds and only opened again when he felt his head slip out of the cradle of his hands. He snapped up straight in his chair and cast an ashamed look around. Newt glanced at him with a somewhat worried smirk but otherwise made no move to reprimand him for almost falling asleep over his work so early in the morning. Graves sighed and picked up the report again, perhaps this time he would actually be able to read some of it.

The world jerked into focus rudely at the sound of a knock emanating through the case. Newt was on his feet and sent him an apologetic frown as he scurried towards the entrance of the case. Graves decided to stretch his legs and maybe just eaves drop on just what the Beast Division was up to.

“…he’s not taking any unscheduled meetings today.” Newt’s voice drifted through the thin walls of the shack. Graves sat down on the little bench and left back against the wall. He closed his eyes and let the sunshine warm his face.

“No. He’s got enough to do without holding your hand through writing your report. You’re not some green eared auror new to the department. You don’t need him to approve your draft.” Newt sounded firm and almost strict. A small smile graced Graves’ lips at the idea of Newt as a school ma’am, bonnet and all.

“This is full of spelling mistakes. Do you ever use punctuation properly? You’re going to have to take this back, re-write it and come back when you’re ready to submit a proper report not some scribblings that a child could write better.” His tone was full of disappointment. The mumblings of the poor sod on the end of his annoyance wasn’t audible but Newt’s put upon sigh was. Graves tuned out Newt and the person he was talking to. The sun was warm and his head felt heavy and stuffed full of cotton wool.

His eyes snapped open when the door of the shack clicked shut. Graves blinked sheepishly at Newt as he tried to gain his bearings. Newt approached him of quiet feet and reached a hand out to pull him up.

“Come on sleepy.” he murmured and Graves was grateful for his quiet manner. He let Newt pull him into the shack instead of back to his desk. Inside it was darker, still warm but without the brightness that hurt his eyes. Gentle hands turned him and pushed on his shoulders and he willingly sank onto the surprisingly soft bed that was tucked into a corner of the shack, easy to miss at first glance when the clutter on the table drew the gaze. Fatigue swept through him and his eyes drooped.

“Hold on one second.” Newt’s hands were insistent on him and the only logical thing that Graves’ addled mind could come up with was to slump forward and rest his forehead against Newt’s stomach. It was surprisingly comfortable and Newt’s fingers automatically started carding through his hair.

“Let’s get you more comfortable, shall we?” Newt murmured and hands slowly helped him out of his waistcoat. A cool hand pressed against his forehead and it reminded Graves so much of the few times his mother took care of him as a child he almost whined. Only the sharp clogging of his throat prevented any noises from coming out. However Newt must have been a mind reader as he gently shushed him and helped him curl up under the covers of the bed. Graves was out like a light almost as soon as the blanket was tucked round his shoulders.

Graves had a vague recollection of being gently woken and helped into a sitting position. Something cool was pressed to his lips and he obediently drank the lukewarm contents of the glass before being laid back down. He stirred an indeterminable amount of time later. His head felt clearer and his body didn’t feel like a lead balloon anymore. Though his throat was still scratchy it wasn’t anywhere near as bad as the day before, his groan sounded much more like him. Said groan was accompanied by a stretch with his arms over his head. Just before it reached the satisfactory level he was interrupted by a mop of red hair shooting up from the floor next to the bed.

“You’re awake!” Newt sounded half asleep and he blinked at Graves from the floor. “How are you feeling?”

“Better thank you.” Graves took stock of his surroundings and shifted uncomfortably as realisation hit home. He was in Newt’s bed and Newt had slept on the floor, using his blue coat as a blanket. It was never Graves’ intention to fall asleep in Newt’s case nor to kick the man out of his own bed. He wasn’t sure how he could repay such kindness, he wasn’t used to it.

“How long was I out?” he ventured. Newt picked himself off the floor and ran a hand through messy curls.

“Not long. You just needed some rest. Take it easy today too but hopefully you’re over the worst of it.”

“You mean I was asleep for a whole day?” Graves didn’t want to believe it.

“When was the last time you took time to yourself?” Newt shot back and Graves had to ponder. He’d never been one to take it easy, not when there was so much to do.

“These few days in your case have been the lightest in a while.” he admitted begrudgingly. “So why did I get ill when I actually had some comparative downtime?”

“It’s just the way it is.” Newt brought over a mug of tea and a plate of warm porridge while a mug of coffee steamed on a workbench behind him. “When you push yourself too hard your body fights with you. But when you take a break your body gets overwhelmed and exhausted so is more susceptible to becoming ill. I’m surprised you didn’t know that.”

“I don’t really have time to take it easy.” Graves rubbed the back of his neck as he swung legs over the edge of the bed.

“Well, perhaps you should think about being kinder to yourself.” Newt teased softly and grinned as he took a drink.

“Perhaps I need someone to remind me of it.” Graves ventured in a moment of bravery.

“Perhaps you do. Got anyone in mind?” Their light teasing took a charged turn.

“Perhaps I do. But how could I ever repay your kindness over the last few days?” Graves’ eye looked hopeful and bashful at the same time. It was an endearing look.

“I’ll let you figure something out. In the meantime my team have solved the little water problem in your office. You’re free to return there whenever you’d like.”

“Hm. I quite liked it here. I don’t suppose we could merge teams? And offices?”

Newt laughed at that.

“I suppose we could have a casual Friday thing. Once a week ought to be acceptable.”

“I’m very glad to hear that. Now riddle me this though. Would taking you out for dinner be deemed as a suitable repayment?” The flirtatious tone was back in their conversation.

“You mean like a date?” Newt’s beamed at him.

“Very much like a date, Mr. Scamander. Very much like a date.”


End file.
